Blood and Kisses
by thenokken
Summary: It's Year 5 at Watford and Baz has noticed a certain someone appearing in his dreams. Someone with blue eyes and golden curls. As Baz struggles with his newfound crush, it seems as if Snow can't leave alone so he can sort out his thoughts. How can you fall out of love with someone when they're always five feet away?
1. Welcome Back to Watford

Chapter One

Welcome Back to Watford

Mummer's house is empty when I arrive. The halls are silent as I make my way to the spiral stairs that wind towards the topmost turret where my room is. _Our_ room I suppose. But Snow is hardly ever there, just to sleep, mostly. I pause outside the door to our room, listening to make sure he's not in there.

" _ **Blood is thicker than water!**_ " I tap my wand against the door gently and it swings open, greeting me with a flood of dusty sunlight and the smell of apples. Damn it, he's back already. Even though Snow isn't physically there, he always leaves a wake of mess behind him, like a fucking hurricane. His bed sheets are already wrinkled and the pillows are scattered haphazardly across the comforter. A duffel bag has been dumped next to the bed, the zipper undone and a pile of cheap jeans and shirts poke out through the top, not even folded, wadded up. I shake my head, irritated. I'll mention it to him later, just so I can see him look uncomfortable as I sneer at him.

If someone asked me why I hate Simon Snow I could probably come up with a whole novel as to why. He's a protagonist in this world, with his stupid blond hair and ridiculous ordinary eyes (blue, just blue, like a fucking crayon). I'm an antagonist, I'm the villain, creeping quietly through the dark, waiting to strike. We're not supposed to get along. He's the sun and I'm the darkness. Another reason: he keeps trying to tell the whole bloody school that I'm a vampire, not that anyone believes him, but it's fucking irritating. We'll have to kill each other one day, so why pretend to be friends? For us all of the petty fighting and arguments are just practice for a future where one of us finishes the other.

I had magicked my trunk up here right when I got dropped off by Fiona at the gates, she didn't come inside, just stopped and let me out. I don't blame her, it's hard enough for me to come back, I can only imagine what it's like for her. Pulling my headphones out of my bag, I quickly find my phone and plug them in, I press shuffle and begin to unpack as _Can't Be Sure_ by The Sundays starts to play. I really could be doing this by magic, I can think of at least 6 different spells that could do this faster than Snow can blow up something in class. And those are just the ones in English. But unpacking my hand, finding a place for each and every sock, shirt and shoe is… comforting? It's like coming home after a long holiday, even if that home is infested with a person whose the human equivalent of an overexcited puppy combined with the H-bomb.

Not that I'd ever admit that to anyone, as far as they know I hate Watford because it stands for everything wrong in my life. Watford is a constant reminder of my mother's death, it's a good kick in the ribs every time I think about how far gone her school is, the bloody Mage might as well as sent us all to Normal schools the way that things are around. Under my mother's care, we had one of the most prestigious libraries the magical and Normal world has ever known. Name any spell book and Watford probably had it. Now that fucking idiot has banned three quarters of the books and replaced them with Normal books, and not even the good books, now it's a fucking kid's library filled with Dr. Seuss and _A Children's Garden of Verses_ , like we're at a ruddy daycare or something.

I'm so absorbed in my music and my thoughts that I barely notice Snow enter the room. I make a show of taking out my headphones and turning off my music (right in the middle of _I am the_ _Antichrist to You_ by Kishi Bashi too, is there nothing he can't ruin?).

"Baz." He nods, quickly turning to his bed and fumbling around with his duffel bag.

"Snow," I sneer, sliding my now empty trunk underneath my bed and picking out a book from the stack next to my bed, _Cloud Atlas_ by David Mitchell. I lazily stretch out across the blankets, one leg draped over the other, trying to tell him that I'm not leaving any time soon.

"How was your summer, find any virgins to sacrifice? Or maybe a litter of kittens to drown?" Snow's throwing shirts and jeans into the drawers without even so much as folding them, bloody heathen, was he raised by wolves?

"What do you care what I do in my spare time? I can sacrifice as many virgins as I like and it wouldn't kill you, would it, Snow?" I raise my eyebrows at him and he blushes, stammering.

"Well- I – uh, whatever." His face is practically glowing scarlet as he blusters.

"Clever comeback." I smirk at him, opening my book and ignoring him. Well. Mostly ignoring him, he takes up a lot of space, with his noise and his brightness. He's like a magical spotlight, it's impossible to ignore even if you want to. I don't trust Snow, as inept at magic as he is, to ignore him. If I could sleep with one eye open, I would. I'm sure he would do the same.

As soon as he's done "unpacking", if you can even call it that, he leaves for dinner. I don't usually go down for dinner, Cook Pritchard is a distant cousin and knows about my situation. She's a dear, always remembers to set aside a bit for me later, so I can eat by myself. When I eat, my fangs pop out, it's embarrassing, not to mention a hard thing to hide.

I suppose since anyone who's back will be enjoying dinner now, I might as well hunt, the catacombs should be stocked with rats after a whole summer of repopulating. If it ever came down to it, I could always be a rat catcher, I'm already half a disgrace to the name of Pitch, why not make it a full disgrace? I shake my head, starting off for the catacombs.

I don't get back until late that night, the moon shines through the open window, illuminating Snow in his bed like he's a Disney princess. He's either sleeping or pretending to. I could bite him. Right now, his too long neck peeps out from underneath the thick blankets. Suddenly I'm more tired than anything, I change quickly into my pyjamas and climb into bed, piling on more blankets. It's not worth having Snow throw a fit about closing the window, this is the one thing I let him have, it's like trying to reason with a child. Not worth it.

I close my eyes and fall asleep to a medley of Snow's calm breathing and the peaceful sounds of the world outside.

 _I'm_ _laying_ _on the ground in_ _the Wavering Wood and it's night. The full moon rises overhead and stars peer through the spaces between the tree branches high above me._ _I can feel the warmth of someone's hand in mine, our fingers intertwined and shoulders touching. I turn my head, and it's Snow. I'm so shocked I can't move, and then his head turns toward me also and he smiles._

 _"Baz," his face lights up like a candle and his body so he's on his side, propped up on his elbow so that he's almost leaning over me. "Crowley, isn't it beautiful?" He reaches down and tucks a lock of hair behind one ear._

 _"Snow? What are you doing?" I should hate this, I should be punching him in his stunning face, or cursing him away from me, but this feels… nice. Like what I imagine dating would be like._

 _"Does it matter?" He leans down and whispers in my ear, his breath is warm and I can smell his hair, apples, soap and cherries, it sends a shiver down my spine. "Unless you want me to do something?" I can feel myself blush and then his face is hovering over mine again, and he's got a stupid smirk on his face as he leans closer and closer, our lips are barely apart and then-_

I wake up, sitting with a jolt and shaking my head. It's still dark out, it's too early to be awake, but now I feel jittery and- confused? Yes. I need to- I don't know, get away for awhile. I just need to try and forget about- whatever the fuck just happened.


	2. Melodies and Enemies

Chapter 2

Sweet Dreams

Baz

I don't go back to sleep that night. I leave our dorm room, it feels too stifling right now, I need space. I need room to think, or to not think.

I don't want to think about Simon Snow anymore. I don't want to think about my dreams. I don't want to think about his hands, or his lips… Dreams don't mean anything though, right?

A dream is just that, a dream.

Or, at least I can try and tell myself that.

I'm in the catacombs again, I'm not thirsty, I had enough rats earlier. Normally I might read or even sleep, but I feel too jittery to sit still, I just walk up and down the dark, cold stone halls and reason with myself. Am I gay? I don't know. I've never thought about it before. I don't think I'm gay, but… I don't know.

It's not something you can look up in a book, or on the internet (well, you probably could). I can't just ask my dad about being gay, I have no idea how he'd react. He's always talked about grandchildren one day.

"Fuck!" I lean against a stone wall, closing my eyes. I can't be gay, not really. I've never liked boys… I've never really liked girls either come to think of it. Even if I am gay, I wouldn't be gay for Simon fucking Snow, that would make me a disgrace to the name of Pitch. More of a disgrace. The heir to the throne of Pitch, the one who's supposed to kill the Mage's heir, not kiss him.

I open my eyes, the dim candle light makes shadows flicker and dance across the grey stone. It's deathly quiet (Crowley, you know what I mean), if I tilt my head and concentrate I can make out the quiet, skittering of rats and even more faintly- Fuck. It almost sounds like… breathing?

"Who's there?" I sneer with as much feeling as possible, standing quickly and pulling my wand out of my sleeve. I walk towards the sound quickly, it's not like I have anything to be afraid of. " _ **Come out, come out, wherever you are!"**_

"Fuck!" I hear someone stumbling towards me, the spell forcing each step. Snow falls over his feet, landing hard on the stone floor.

"What are you doing? Resorting to stalking now, Snow?" My hands curl into fists, I'm so angry I'm almost blushing. Why can't have one moment away from him?

"What are you doing? Plotting? You don't exactly come off as innocent sneaking off to the catacombs at three in the morning!" Snow stands now, brushing off dust and cobwebs from his school issued pyjamas. His hair is fussed and falling across his eyes, I have the sudden urge to brush it across his forehead, sweeping those golden curls back from his blue eyes. Crowley, stop it, I can't let myself think like that.

"Maybe I just came down to pay respects to my bloody dead mother! Even though she's dead, at least I know I had a mother. That's more than I can say for you." I snap at him, a verbal punch and I can see him recoil. It's a low blow, not one I usually would resort to, but I'm angry and confused and too busy hating myself to care. I leave him there in the semi darkness, turning on my heel and walking away. Ten minutes ago I felt as if I'd had 12 espressos, now I all feel is tired. I'm not paying attention until I find myself at the top of Mummer's House, opening the door and falling into bed without turning on the light. I hear Snow come inside a few minutes later, as he lays down I hear him crying.

 _Good,_ I think to myself and then regret it. I may hate him, but right now I think I hate myself more.

I don't sleep for the rest of the night. I toss and turn, eventually grabbing my headphones and turning up my music until I can't hear myself think anymore.

As soon as the weak light of morning begins to trickle in through the window, I'm up and out of bed, locking myself in the bathroom. I twist the knobs in the shower, turning up the heat until it almost burns, but not quite. I'm sluggish and exhausted, so getting ready takes longer than normal, at least classes don't start until tomorrow. If I had to sit through Greek today I might light myself on fire. I'm already passed all of the year 5 curriculum, but the Mage refuses to put in classes with the older students, something or another about "special treatment" and class sizes. It's utter shit, but there's nothing the Families can do about it, just one drop in the bucket of reasons why we hate the Mage.

As I'm drying my hair, Snow starts to knock on the door.

"Baz! Hurry up, I need to shower before breakfast and you've probably used all of the hot water!"

"Give me a minute, Snow. You're precious scones won't disappear in ten minutes." He sighs dramatically from the other side of the door, and I can hear him muttering to himself as he throws himself on his bed. He's such a child sometimes.

As soon as I open the door he's up and rushing for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I quickly finish getting ready now that Snow is showering. We never dress in front of each other. We never have and probably never will, it's an unspoken agreement between us. I just want to get out and get down to breakfast, circles under my eyes be damned. I'm lacing up my shoes when I hear the water shut off, I'm grabbing my bag and racing down the stairs before he even opens the bathroom door.

Dev and Niall are at our usual table, I sit down, grabbing a cup of tea from the pot on the table and adding cream and sugar.

"Morning, Baz." Niall yawns, taking a scone from the basket on table. Dev grunts sleepily, propping his head up on one hand.

"You two look like death, when did you get in?" I take a sip of tea, ugh, it's room temperature. _**"Some like it hot!"**_ I wave my wand over my mug and it starts steaming. Much better.

"About 15 minutes ago, too bloody early. We were up half the night at a Normal party, but Mum and Dad don't know about that part." Niall smirks, tearing off a piece of scone and popping into his mouth. "But you're one to talk, what happened to you?"

"Didn't sleep well, The Chosen One has chosen to annoy the living hell out of me nearly all night. Never mind that, how was summer?" We go on making small talk, I'm only listening as Niall describes the Normal girl he hooked up with at the party when Snow walks into the dining room, making a beeline for the scones and butter. As he's walking towards Wellbelove and Bunce, he catches my eyes and glowers. I glare back, tempted to hex him, because why not, but I straighten the cuffs of my shirt instead. Still only half listening to Niall. He and Dev are laughing now. I force a laugh, glancing up at the clock on the wall and stand, running my fingers through my long black hair.

"Where are you off to now?" Dev yawns at me, scratching his cheek.

"Violin practice, then to football." I shrug, slinging my bag over one shoulder. "I'll see you both later then?" The two nod and continue talking about the Normal girl (Miranda, I think). I always practice the violin in a small classroom on the third floor of the main building, I don't have lessons until winter, but I love to practice. There's a sort of calm when I play, as if everything melts away and it's just me and music, nothing except the wooden bow in one hand and the press of the violin against my collarbone and chin, the notes floating off of the strings delicately and always slightly mournful, like a dove.

The door to the classroom is locked when I reach it. _**"Open Sesame!"**_ I gently tap the door with my wand and it swings open. My violin waits for me on a shelf near the window. I don't trust Snow to keep it in our room, it belonged to my grandfather and it means the world to me. The hinges creak slightly as I unclasp the case and as I lift it into position everything feels right.

I begin to play, and the world disappears.

Simon

"Penny, I'm telling you, he's being odder than usual. I told you about the catacombs, and he hardly even snapped at me this morning." I'm spreading a thick slab of butter on my fifth cherry scone, Penny looks bored as she sips her tea.

"Simon if I had a pound for every time you complained about Baz plotting, I think I'd have about..." she trails off and I can see the gears turning in her head, working out the equation. "Well, I'd be quite rich I can assure you. At least you don't have a mildly disturbed pixie as a roommate. I'm already trying to spell the dust out of everything, it's everywhere!" She sighs, setting down her cup and brushing a stray lock of dark red hair out of her eyes.

"Penelope… He really is up to something this time, I can _feel_ it! Look, see, he's leaving to go somewhere, probably off plotting..." I'm standing up, shoving the last bit of scone into my mouth and grabbing another for my pocket. "Come on, we'll lose him." Penny sighs and stands reluctantly and follows me me out of the room.

I peer around the corner as Baz opens the door to a classroom I've never seen used before, it's tucked away in a corner of the school that overlooks the White Chapel. As the door closes I take Penny by the hand and we creep towards it, silently pressing our heads against the door and listening closely.

"I can't hear anything." I whisper and Penny shakes her head, putting a finger to her lips. She raises her ring against the door and whispers under her breath.

 _ **"DJ turn it up!"**_ And then the sound from the other side is magnified so intensely we might as well be standing right next to him. There's a slight creak and shuffling, and then the complete opposite of what I expect happens. Instead of listening to a phone call or hearing Baz plotting some way to try and kill me this year, I hear the most beautiful music in the world.

I'm not sure what song it is, but it's the perfect blend of bittersweet and hopeful. It's haunting and it seems to echo all of the feelings I've ever had about anything. It reminds me of summers without Watford, it reminds me of the day I realized I didn't have parents, it's the day that I first saw Agatha and she was so beautiful I had to remind myself to breathe.

It takes me a moment to register when the music stops, and Penny has to grab my shoulder and haul me out of the way just as Baz opens the door.

"Snow?"

Baz 

Snow looks shocked, his mouth is hanging open. He fell down on the floor with Bunce standing over him, glaring. But Snow doesn't look… I don't know. It almost looks like he doesn't hate me, and for just a moment. I let myself think that about a world where Snow didn't hate me. I imagine our hands pressed together… And then the real world comes crashing back like a fucking wave, knocking me over. Snow does hate me, enough to kill me one day. Oddly, I can't help but think it might not be such a terrible way to die.

"Snow?" He's still staring at me, and Bunce is pulling him to his feet, trying urge him along. He seems to snap out of his trance and bolts, dragging Bunce behind him. I should be furious that they followed me, that they heard me playing. But I can't get that look on Snow's face out of head…

I'll snap at him later, I have an appearance to maintain. But right now, I need to change for football.


End file.
